


Universal Constants

by Shadi612



Series: Universal Constants [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed, Cursed Storybrooke, English is not the author's first language, F/M, NSFW, Peter Pan is not Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold's Father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:46:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadi612/pseuds/Shadi612
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This thing, this relationship - He was every bad choice and nasty little habit they had warned her about, all packed up with a cutting smirk.</p>
<p>She loved it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Universal Constants

 

**I. Once Upon a Time**

 

All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again. But this time it happened in Maine.

 

**II. And then they were no more**

It happened in a world where Peter Pan and Wendy Darling were no more that two names in a dusty book locked away in a forgotten library.

Here, instead, there was Matthew Kensington and Jillian Redford.

They weren’t, of course, real. These two were no more than make believe.

(But then again, so were the boy that wouldn't grow up and the Wendy Lady.)

Under the curse they were forced into a rushed -or well deserved, depending in who you asked- adulthood. The girl in the nightgown became Jill Redford, a 22 year old with a literature degree she found no particular use for, less so when she moved in with a sick Aunt she wasn’t all that fond of but hey it was a free room after all.

She settled into the New England life quite easily, balancing her time between caring for Aunt Millie, a part time work in the local bookstore and a few friends, much to her dismay.

It wasn't as she was planning to stay in the sleepy little town a second more than necessary.

As for the Boy King, let’s just say that the fact he was in an older body did not make Pan any wiser.

He stayed in the dark shadows of the night. Drugs, blackmailing, bootlegging, murder… Anything Matthew could get his hands on he turned it around on his favor. He was a man of simple taste and he only wanted a thing:

**Power.**

And power did he have!

Being a methodical person, he always figured out how to get his way and he played those around him like pieces in a chess game he was _winning._

The two of them led opposite lives, running in different circles, never once crossing paths aside from the rumors and warnings Jill heard about him. Said stories only intrigued her and she felt the smallest bit of fascination about him, or at least the person they said he was.

Fate had a funny way of working and eventually, they found each other.

 

**III. Like ships in the night**

 

This time, he caught her attention first.

Arabella Green, possibly the only person in the history of the world to actually get fired from a _nunnery_ ,had dragged her out to their first night in town since Aunt Millie had passed away six months before, and the plans for the night had turned out to be getting drinks at The Rabbit Hole.

The music blasted softly on her ears, drowning down Arabella’s latest tale about her inability to find a job she was actually good at. Jill’s eyes wandered around the bar, frustration growing inside her when she realized there wasn’t anything interesting to see. Or at least it wasn’t until the doors opened and the worst thing to happen to her walked through them.

Her eyebrow lifted while a smile tugged at her lips. _That’s new_ was the first thought that crossed her mind. To Jill, he wasn’t bad on the eyes; from where she stood she could make out that he was a brunette and lean under the low light, tall too.

He was hard to miss, not when he strode into the place like he owned it and every person there should kneel in front of him. Embarrassingly, it took her a few seconds to notice the taller blonde man standing next to him.

As if he could read her mind, they walked straight to them, or more specifically, towards a very unamused Arabella.

 “ ‘Bella” his voice was sultry and the English accent sounded so familiar to Jill that for a second she found herself feeling something akin to homesickness

 Without missing a beat, or tearing her eyes away from her drink, Arabella greeted him coldly.

“You” even if he wasn’t talking to her, the man’s eyes were set on Jillian, which made it hard for her not to do the same.

“That was rude. Lucky and I miss seeing you around” letting a frustrated sigh, she turned on her heels, standing as a sort of shield between them.

Deep down, she felt thankful towards her friend without realizing it.

“Lucas” the petite woman did a head nod at the other blonde.

He wasn’t going to back down, it seemed.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, ‘Bella?” he pressed on.

“No” Jill let out a low chuckle at her response, which only seemed to encourage him further on. His grin became sharper and he leaned towards her, like she was some sort of _prey_.

“Let’s try again, I’m Matthew. Matthew Kensington”

Green met blue and a shiver ran up her spine during the two seconds it took her brain to make the connection. This was _him_? The devil-with-the-face-of-a-man from all those rumors she had heard in her time in Storybrooke?

Jill couldn’t tell whenever the feeling growing at the pit of her stomach was disappointment, fear or excitement but whatever it was, she should have listened to it (and to the little voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like herself as a child)

She had never quite liked doing as she was told.

“Jill Redford” telling him her name had been her first mistake, if his growing smirk was anything to go by.

 Dancing with him had been the second one.

Their bodies fitted almost _too_ well with one another, his hands circling Jill’s waist and pressing her against his broad chest with a little bit of force she didn’t mind all that much. For the first time in longer that she dared to admit, she actually enjoyed herself, and with the way his hands never seemed to wander away from her for more than a second, so did he.

By the time the song ended, Matthew’s eyes were on her, studying her face as if he was looking for something that _should_ be there. She had a pretty good idea of what it was and he wasn’t going to find it.

“I’m not afraid of you” she spat at him with a confident smirk.

Matthew gave her a grin of his own and leaned down “Keep telling yourself that” his whisper came out raspy and low, right next to her ear so she had to heard him even if she tried not to.

God, she hated him.

It’s no wonder they ended up in the Rabbit Hole’s alleyway, his hands creeping over her thighs and a nimble finger pushing her underwear aside.

He kissed her with sharp teeth as she tugged on his hair to the point the line between pain and pleasure blurred more than once. It was wrong, so, so _wrong_. He wasn’t good for her and he probably just wanted her because she refused to bow down to him like everyone else did.

And somehow, being under the stars right at edge between the town and the woods with her legs wrapped around his waist and his arms holding them against the wall, it felt   **r i g h t.**

 

**IV. A special brand of temptation**

 

Despite what they repeatedly told each other, and themselves, it wasn’t just a one-night thing.

It still was far from a relationship: It was a one-time fuck outside the pub turned friends with benefits which in turn ended up with them spending more time with the other than not.

It didn’t take long for them to become the newest gossip among the town.

The entirety of it- from the whirling of mixed feelings it awakened in her to the fact she was actually not that bothered about people’s reactions- was the last of Jill’s worries when it came to him.

Matthew was possessive in a way that left fingerprints on her thighs with bites marks on her neck and a content feeling on her soul.

(He used to whisper to her in the night, in that place between sleep and awake, words about never leaving and making her all his.

She didn’t know whenever it was a promise or a threat. Or which one scared her the most.)

This thing, this relationship - _He_ was every bad choice and nasty little habit they had warned her about, all packed up with a cutting smirk.

She loved ~~him~~ it.

She had no interest in his money. Jill didn't care about the luxuries or anything else that could blind her with its shine. At the end of the day, despite her better judgment, her very own consciousness, she cared about him.

She wondered if he knew, because Arabella obviously did

“You’re really deep into this, aren’t ya?” she had asked her with a shake of her head.

Jill couldn’t bring herself to answer that. If she couldn’t bring it up to her friend, how was she supposed to discuss it with Matthew?

As it turns out, she didn’t have to.

He told her everything a few months into their _dalliance_ , as Arabella had started to call it. Maybe he thought she hadn't heard the rumors flying around, or maybe it was his way to test how far she was willing to go with this. Whatever it was, he had carefully explained to her what he did, and how many lives and people had gotten ruined because of it, not showing an ounce of regret even once.

She left him for the first time that day.

It didn’t have anything to do with the things he did: Jill had become aware of it a long time ago, aware of the darkness that he carried around.

She hadn’t thought about it like something he **enjoyed** so much.

With every word he said, it became obvious to Jill that his power was the only thing in his life that mattered to him. To Matthew, she was just another thing he owned, a valuable thing he cared for and was possessive over, but he didn’t love her. She wasn’t sure he knew how.

And damn it if her heart was going to be broken because of that.

Jill threw herself into work and going back to the carefully scheduled life she had built for herself as if he had never been in it to begin with. She kept telling herself that she was happier that way.

(No, she wasn’t. It became void, predictable and _boring_ but boring was safer)

He didn’t try to reach her after that day. It was as if he had vanished in thin air and if it had been anyone else, she would have thought they had. But this was Matthew, and he never gave up without a fight or a final trick under his sleeve.

Matthew proved her right a few ~~years months~~ weeks later.

It was almost ironic that it happened once again in the Rabbit Hole, except this time she had been the one to drag Arabella there instead. Maybe she had been tempting faith but at this point she just wanted to forget, and if dancing in the middle of a crow of bodies to deafening music was what it took, she was going to.

She had no idea of what time it was but when she felt the press of someone on her back, it felt like everyone but them had frozen.

“Missed me?” Jill didn’t need to turn to know who it was; she merely grabbed his hand and guided him to the backroom.

"What are y-" He had her against the wall before she could say anything else, the rough bricks pressing against her back.

Jill gasped under her breath when he devoured her mouth in a forceful kiss, as if he was pouring every emotion from their time apart into it

"You're coming back" he demanded after they broke apart, his green eyes glaring at her, as if he was daring her to tell him otherwise.

She didn’t disappoint

"Why should I?" crossing her arms over her chest, Jill felt proud of herself on how strong her voice sounded, even if her knees were weak and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. She wasn’t going to play his games anymore, not if she didn’t have a chance of winning.

Matthew let out a groan in both frustration and arousal, grabbing her wrists to push them against the wall and bending down so their faces mere inches apart.

Jill remained unimpressed.

“Why would I go back to you, Matthew?” she prodded again, refusing to back down on this. He had always said he liked the fire on her, and fire he was going to get.

“Because” was all he answered her before buried his face on the crook of her neck and it was then that it dawned on her.

Because he said so.

Because he wanted it.

Because he needed **her.**

Matthew could be simple like that sometimes, like a little boy that wanted things to go his way no matter what it took. She sighed, pulling her hands on both sides of his face and forcing him to look at her

“Use your words, Kensington. Because…” she trailed off, never once letting her eyes wander away from his.

“I want you” There it was. She didn’t get to argue back, his lips pressing against her and sealing those words between them.

In his own wicked way, he loved her too.

“And you want me too” his breath felt hot on her neck, his hand coming to rest softly at the base of her throat with just the softest amount of pressure “don’t you, darling?”

“I’m not your property” she panted, “I’m not a thing you own, I’m a person and you’ll treat me like one: Like the person you _want_ ” she cradled his head, bringing him up to crash their mouths together and taking his breath away as it belonged to her. She could taste victory on that kiss and it didn’t matter whose it was because under his breath she heard him moan a breathless _Yes._

 

**V. I can’t wait for love to destroy us**

 

Jill didn’t care if it was a poor choice, it was her choice and she had made it: Matthew was hers and she was his.

It didn’t mean they were perfect and happy all the time.

Far from it, in fact.

They were dysfunctional at their best and toxic at their lowest. He insisted on possessing her and showing everyone just who she belonged to. She refused to be another little pawn on his games, always challenging him: Jill knew she couldn’t change him, for better or for worse and he would have to learn that they were in this together. She stood next to him, never beneath him.

Matthew wasn’t very familiar with that concept, and it lead to them butting heads almost daily.

Jill always threatened to leave in the middle of their fights, and she made good on her promise half the time but just because he let her walk away didn’t mean he’ll let her _go_. He was never very good at it.

It became a cycle for them; they had their good days and bad days (Both of them involving a surprising amount of fucking, between their rough arguments gone a little bit too far and the make up sex that inevitably followed in their good days.)

Matthew took a liking to showing up in her apartment at the middle of the night, more often than not after one of his "jobs", reeking of blood and sweat and alcohol, a particular scent she grew to associate with him over time.

Jill would sigh and drag him in before anyone could see him standing there, once he was inside she would shove him into the bathroom and wouldn't let him anywhere near her until _theredandthesmellandwasthathisownblood_ was all gone.

She would slip back in bed, pretending that _this_ wasn't happening in the small cubicle across her room. And she was good at pretending.

Matthew was more than willing to play his part.

He would crawl into her bed and rest his arm over her waist, pressing his bare chest against her back, then kiss the nape of her neck, letting her feel his smirk against her skin.

They never spoke of it the next day.

Over time she grew used to it, mockingly dubbing it as their night ritual. He never let anyone else see him like that, the other’s weren’t suppose to know he was vulnerable and bleed like them and yet he always came to her in those moments.

Jill had been dozing off in bed with her eyes darting back and forth between her ceiling and the alarm clock. She wasn’t much of a worrier ~~liar~~ but when it came to him, there was always this feeling he was going to get himself killed one day. When the lock in the front door clicked, she let out a breath she didn’t knew she had been holding. Counting to three, she dragged herself out of bed and leaned against the living room’s threshold.

Matthew was striding around the place, leaving small droplets of blood fall into the floor.

Rolling her eyes, Jill made a beeline towards him and grabbed his hand softly, frowning when she felt his damp knuckles. Matthew followed her wordlessly when she dragged him to the bathroom and stripped him off his jacket and shirt.

“Someone’s eager” With a huff she pushed him against the edge of the tub, turning her back on him and wishing that for once he could understand her and did as told. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding, and she was pretty sure his lip wasn’t split when he had left that morning.

Even with everything he had achieved, he wasn't above getting dirt on his own hands.

"There’s a thrill to it" came the response to a question she never asked. She ignored him, concentrating on wrapping the gauze around his bruised knuckles. Making sure both hands were clean and secured, she left for her room without a word.

Feeling the bed dip on his side, Jill rolled onto her stomach and looked at him with half-hooded eyes when he laid down next to her. Scooting closer, her fingers danced over his chest and the multiple scars there.

Matthew titled her head up and kissed her, rolling them over so she was resting on top of him. His hands were gentle, much more than they had ever been with her (or anyone else) when they ran up and down her sides, one of them sneaking down her shirt and cupping her breast.

Jill hissed against his mouth while she guided his free hand between her legs. In no time he had her moaning, one of his fingers slipping inside her, Jill quickly pushed him against the headboard in a sitting position and wiggled out of her shirt while her legs straddled him. His mouth was red and swollen like hers, and it opened in the slightest at the sight of her naked form.

“Fuck” he hissed. She laughed and bent down to kiss him, sighing happily when she could feel him hard and brushing against her core. Placing his hands on her hips she began to bounce up and down, establishing a pace he met back with deep thrusts.

He latched onto her pulse point, sucking a new bruise there when her rhythm suddenly stopped “Move” he groaned in a low, husky voice. Jill smirked down at him, rolling her hips in tantalizingly slow circles and pressing his hand back between her legs. Grinning, Matthew crocked a finger inside her as he slammed back into her core, effectively getting her to groan and regain her rhythm. She found her peak moaning against his mouth, her walls clamping down on him and pushing him to the edge with her.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.”

Their breathing eventually calmed down and Matthew pressed her against his side with their legs entangled. She felt asleep listening to the steady thump of his heart.

(That was the same night Emma Swan came to town)

 

**VI. An Awfully Big Adventure**

Things start to change after that night. It’s not one of their good days. But it’s not bad either.

With the death of Sheriff Humbert and Deputy Swan stepping in, Matthew’s forced to think about new tactics to get around the law. She can tell is bringing him down slowly but surely, he’s losing and he can’t deal with it. If the amount of nights he’s spending at her place is anything to go by, it’s not going to end well

The reality of it slaps her right in the face a few months later. They’re standing on her kitchen sharing coffee when he casually kisses her neck and wraps her arms around her middle

“We should leave” Jill raises an eyebrow and tilts her head to study him. She had toyed with the idea of leaving once or twice, more so during her earlier days with Aunt Millie when it seemed her Aunt was hell bent on driving her crazy but it hadn’t actually crossed her mind in a long time, not since meeting him or even during their worst days.

“And where would we go, huh?” she’s teasing him with just the subtlest hint of wonder behind it. Him? Leaving the place he had carefully under his thumb? It meant he either was in bigger troubles she thought about (and it was just impossible to her to imagine him losing) or he was messing with her head.

“How does London sound to you, darling?” her mouth opens, forming a delicate O as she stares at him. London was but a distain memory to her. Jill’s relationship with her parents hadn’t been the best and her acceptance letter to college in Boston had been her ticket to get out of the stuffy, too strict house. She left and didn’t look back, or even thought about it, until he had mentioned it. London hadn’t been her home in a long, _long_ time. And Storybrooke wasn’t her real home either but _maybe_ this could work

She smiles and stands on her tiptoes, kissing him.

“Let’s go on an adventure”

(They never made it out of town)

  **VII. Shattered Sight**

They’re not together when the curse breaks.

Jill’s at work, pilling up some leftover books that she still hasn’t packed up and bringing them to the storage room. She’s already talked with the Mayor and Mister Gold about closing down the bookstore, it’s not like anybody visited it and with the library closed what did it matter? They accepted it without much trouble, much to her surprise. Maybe she should thank Sherriff Swan for giving them bigger troubles than her and Matthew. She hums, running a hand through her hair in front of the mirror and smiling. She’s actually happy in longer than she cares to remember.

That’s when the smoke came.

 It wraps around her, almost too quickly for her to notice it but not fast enough that she doesn’t get to let out a blood-curling scream when it does.

When it dissipates, Wendy Darling opens her eyes and stares back at her own reflection for the first time in almost three decades.

She wants to cry and laugh at the same time because this is what she wanted, didn’t she? She’s a _grown up,_ a bloody adult woman. And yet she doesn’t have a choice, a _saying_ on her life. Her curse wasn’t even her _own._ No, she was _his_ curse. It makes her feel sick to her stomach, and the pounding on her head from having two very long lifetimes worth of memories hammering against each other doesn’t help. The things **she** did, the things _they_ did, oh she couldn’t even think about it too much. She ends up retching in the storage’s room sink, tucked away from everything that’s going on outside these four walls.

Wendy can’t deal with it.

There’s a part of her that saw the bite marks on her neck as tokens of affection and enjoyed acting on her spare time. The part of her that’s _Jill_ is screaming and screaming that she wants to see him, worries about him, _aches_ for him while the other part of her, the one that remembers running for her life in an island and the threats of a possessive demon boy leaves her pressing her hands against her ears until all she can hear is the sound of her blood rushing.

She’s can’t tell whenever she’s grateful or grieving over the curse breaking.

 

**V.III You can’t go home again**

 

Eventually she falls sleep there, curled onto herself with her knees against her chest like she did so many nights in Neverland. She wakes up later that night, the feeling of the cold tiles against her cheek and the moonlight going through the window giving her the feeling she’s back in the cage and all of this was just a nightmare. When her eyes open further, she’s faced with the hard reality of an old brown ceiling and moldy walls.

It _is_ a cage but it’s not _her_ cage.

Standing up on wobbly legs, she wanders around the shop felling like a stranger even if there’s a place in the back of her mind where she knows she can navigate this place with her eyes closed.

It makes her feel like she’s about to puke again, so she leaves.

The streets are empty, people all over town reuniting with their loved ones. She doesn’t have any of those left, not as Wendy at least, and she doesn’t even dares herself to think about the person _Jill_ wants to look for.

Despite everything, Wendy finds some amusement about thinking how **he** is dealing with it, how disgusted he must be about being an _adult._ He can suffer for all that she cares.

Without noticing it, her feet drag her to a place she’s come to know terrible well: Matthew’s apartment.

Pan’s standing right across the street from her and Wendy’s throat closes at the sight of him, a part of her urging her to run towards him. But she stops herself, knowing it can’t be like that anymore; she’s disheveled, and tired and feels the weight of all her century and twenty something years over her shoulders.

For a second, she wonders if he’s fighting the same impulse she is, the one that makes her want to run to him like they have done for the last twenty eight years.

She’s not that person anymore. The name on her lips is not his, and the person he craves is not her. They can’t be them again, and she can’t quite pinpoint the emotions on his eyes ~~not anymore~~

She doesn’t know what to do.

(Neither of them does)

 


End file.
